


A Strange Slice of the Big Apple...

by BeautifullyObsessed



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch's Doctor Strange - Fandom, Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stephen Strange - Fandom, Strangebatch - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:11:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifullyObsessed/pseuds/BeautifullyObsessed
Summary: ...with a Tasty Side of Cloak.A Stephen Strange x Reader fan fiction.  Written before the release of "Infinity War" in the United States--so please forgive the fluffiness, in the wake of the grave & serious events of the film.





	A Strange Slice of the Big Apple...

For the youth of Kamar-Taj, life was never all study and drills, rigorous exercise and strict discipline.  The wisdom of many Masters had long recognized that the young ones needed time away from their studies, time to relax, time to play.  It made them better students in the end, and generally lent a more pleasant atmosphere to the compound—occasionally encouraging even the most single-minded and dedicated of the adults to follow the children’s example.

 Adepts, whose natures suited them for such nurturing sort of tasks, were assigned to oversee small groups of these young ones, guiding them quietly and judiciously in their games and leading them on field trips to locales within–and ranging far from–Kathmandu.  On such an occasion, you had the duty of chaperoning a group of young Novices to the New York Sanctum so that they could explore several floors of artifacts housed there—with the promise that good behavior by all would grant them the opportunity to enjoy the Bleecker Street Playground, or perhaps even Washington Square Park, on this fine spring day.

You found yourself as excited as the children were about the outing—but for a far different reason.  Though your path had rarely crossed with that of the renowned Master of the New York Sanctum, his deeds in defense of the Earth had become the stuff of legends among students and masters alike; and the sight of him (on his regular visits to Kamar-Taj) striding through the courtyard of the compound—effortlessly projecting the perfect picture of a man on a vital mission–had reinforced the hero worship which his charisma and accomplishments had kindled in your heart.  

A fruitless, ridiculous crush to be sure, and a distraction which you had vowed not to allow to interfere with your own training in the mystic arts…but for today.  Today was your quiet chance to observe him from a nearer distance, to memorize his little details, and to satisfy your curiosity about the man beneath the hero’s mantle. 

Naturally, you had expected to find a fellow Adept awaiting your small party, ready to usher you and the children through a tour of the Sanctum, before allowing leeway enough for all to survey the artifacts and magical relics–the most valuable of which were safely housed in glass cases.  Instead, you exited the portal to come face to face with Stephen Strange himself, clad in his trademark blue vestments, and wearing the Eye of Agamotto.  

Rendered speechless in surprise—and suddenly self-conscious to be so near him, and unprepared at that—you stopped short, gasped, and staring up into his exotic, mesmerizing eyes, mumbled an incoherent hello. Strange raised a brow, looking amused, and the moment seemed to last forever as you studied his breathtaking features.   _He’s even_  more _handsome_   _up close_ , you realized, pondering what the true color of his eyes were; from afar they had always appeared blue or gray depending upon the light, but up close you found a near kaleidoscope in their depths.  Clear crystal blue they were, and yet there were hints of green as well, with flecks of gold;  _this_  must _be part of his magic_ , you thought.  In the space of only a few heartbeats more, you read a hard-won wisdom, a sly humor and a quiet compassion that spoke of having borne his own share of pain—all in the depths of his beautiful orbs.   _These are eyes some lucky woman could get lost in_ ,you though _t_ dreamily _, if only…if only…if only…_  

Then he was chuckling, pulling you from your musing, and leaving you wondering just how big a fool you’d just made of yourself.  A flush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks, even as a very natural and endearingly crooked grin softened his mouth.  “Welcome to the New York Sanctum,” he laughed, so sincerely friendly that you began to relax a bit.

“Thank you, Doctor Strange,” you managed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathless as he made you feel.  The youngsters had crowded around you, hushed despite their eager expectations, surely impressed with the commanding figure of the Master before them. 

Smoothly, he turned his attention their way, “Hello, children.  I’m glad you could visit us today—we’ve got some really cool things to show you.  Things that still amaze  _me_  at times.”  You noticed that as he spoke, Strange took a moment to make eye contact with each child, before he looked back to you.  The unexpectedly warm appraisal in his gaze held you bound, breathless again as you wondered if he somehow read the secret yearning of your heart.  “So–shall we begin?”  His impish wink convinced you that he knew  _exactly_  what you were feeling—and that perhaps it pleased him too.

Your young charges followed him readily, chattering quietly amongst themselves, allowing you to fall to rear of the group.  His manner with them was easy and engaging, and he had them asking questions you wouldn’t have expected of them—and answering his ridiculous puns with giggles that echoed in a way this Sanctum had surely never seen.  Clearly, he enjoyed an audience, and from time to time, you found his eyes on you, checking to see if you were enjoying his show as well. 

But you soon realized there was one relic conspicuous by its absence—his very own Cloak of Levitation.  Perhaps he was saving it for last, and would introduce it at the end of the tour with a dramatic flourish.  Or perhaps he was waiting for one of his guests to ask after it.   _Well then…that’ll be me_ , you decided boldly;  _I’ll just show him I’m much more than a meek junior mage, mooning over the great master_. 

Gathering your courage, you drew a deep breath, instilling your query with enough sass to impress him with your mettle, “But Master Strange, where is the relic as famous as you?  Where is the Cloak you’ve worn into mystic battles, time and again?“  

He appeared taken aback for a breath or two, squinting those exotic, mesmerizing eyes right at you, with his mouth drawing into a baffled frown as he dramatically patted first his right shoulder, and then his left. The children watched him entranced, a few of them even holding their breath in anticipation of his answer.

“Hmmmm,” he grumbled, playing the scene for all it was worth, “Well, I’ll be damned–Cloak seems to have wandered off!”  He looked to the young ones, shaking his head and t’sking, “Absent without permission.”  He bent closer to the children, “Have any of you spotted it?  I thought for sure that Cloak was looking forward to meeting you all today.”   

Some of the children gaped open-mouthed, while others rushed to suggest just where the famed garment might be.  Strange listened while nodding sagely, giving each little Novice their say. “Those are very good ideas, children,” he told them, then crouched down to their eye level to add conspiratorially, “But I have a hunch that with  _your_  help, we can coax Cloak out of wherever it’s hiding.”  He spared you a look, his wide grin and raised brow enough of a hint of what was to come—so you had best just relax and enjoy his little joke. “How about we all shout as loud as we can and see if we can get Cloak to come and join us?” 

Needing no further prompting, the youngsters joined in a mixed chorus, calling out to Cloak.  Stephen stood back up, wearing the most shit-eating grin you had ever seen, so that you realized–just before you felt a firm tap on your shoulder–that Cloak hovered right behind you.   The children giggled, some shouting in delight, when they noticed, watching as Cloak draped itself across your shoulders, to gently urge you nearer to the Master of the New York Sanctum–who shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide, silently proclaiming an innocence that was far from convincing—to you, anyway. 

Standing right next to him, you found that his eyes were so merry (at your expense, no less) and so completely captivating that you just  _couldn’t_  feel the least bit put out as the punch line of his joke.  “Cloak seems to like you, Adept,” he confided, his voice deliciously deep, and low enough for your ears alone to hear, “And Cloak is an  _excellent_  judge of character.”  

Emboldened by the compliment in his voice and in his eyes, you let your gaze linger upon the small details of his face—the fine lines beside his eyes, denoting his usual good humor and a tendency to smile; the crinkle at the bridge of his nose, utterly adorable when he’d been playing at being perplexed, though you’d seen it at times so stern and commanding that you had, more than once, secretly wished he’d direct that focus upon you; the fullness of his lips, accentuated by his facial hair, the bottom lip plump enough to make you envious for a taste. Unseemly thoughts, you knew, for an Adept to have about a Master—made more inappropriate in light of the gravitas of Strange’s astounding magical powers, and by the well-known weight of hisawesome responsibilities.

Strange seemed to study you as well, and you held your breath, praying that the run of your thoughts was not clear upon your face.  He winked again—and you were sure he at least _guessed_  what you’d been thinking, so that you felt a heated blush rise in your cheeks.  Cloak hugged you a little tighter, bracing your confidence.  “A most excellent judge of character, indeed,” Strange repeated under his breath, before turning his attention back to his younger guests.  

Strange continued to guide them through the Hall of Relics, moving the children along briskly.  You had thought to fall back once again, self-conscious now that that you were certain he was aware of the crush you had been unable to conceal—but Cloak had other ideas.  Each time your gait slowed, it pushed you forward enough to keep pace with the intimidating Master, never allowing you to remain more than two feet away from him. Confounded, you had no choice but to remain in Strange’s orbit, and eventually you relaxed enough to enjoy the tour. 

Forty-five minutes later you stood with your charges, in front of the round window on the fourth floor of the sanctum.  The Window on the World, he had called it, explaining that it enabled him to view more than just the city outside, more than just Earth itself, but countless worlds across countless realities, as one of his most important responsibilities was to monitor for any threats from infinite dimensions, to our quiet little corner of the multiverse.   _What a heavy_   _burden that must be_ , you thought,  _and one that never ends_.   _How does he do it, day in and day out; does he ever wish for even a day’s respite_? 

Stephen looked to you, admitting—as though he’d read your mind, “It is a heavy burden at times, yes—but it’s an incredible privilege, too. You can’t imagine the wonders I have seen, the acts of courage and generosity by beings very different from us, and yet somehow the same.  The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj are not the only ones who defend creation against the darkness.” 

 He looked a little sad, before he turned back to the Window, and you wondered if standing sentry in this way made for a lonely life—and knew in that moment that if he asked, you’d gladly serve beside him.  Not just to see the marvels of which he spoke, or to simply safeguard life on Earth, but to give companionship to this hero, who was flesh and blood after all, brilliant and funny and surprisingly kind.  Before he might see, you thumbed the tears from the corners of your eyes, smiling brightly enough to keep those thoughts secret. 

“Now,” he tuned back to the children, telling them magnanimously, “That concludes our tour of the Sanctum—but I doooooooo have one more surprise up my sleeve.”   Strange grinned at the bright little faces giving him their full attention, “Who’s hungry?”

* * *

The Sanctum dining room was far smaller than the dining hall of Kamar-Taj, but it easily accommodated the dozen young Novices, the Sanctum Master, and one starry-eyed Adept, enjoying an unexpected treat:  New York style, thin crust pizza.  Some of the children had never had partaken of the Americanized delicacy before, but they didn’t hesitate to dig right in; and he had thoughtfully provided plain cheese pizza, as well as sausage and peppers for the more adventurous among them.  Though he gave them a lesson in exactly how true New Yorkers ate it ( “You have to fold it like this, kids,” he had stressed, “And start from the pointy end,” before taking a healthy bite of his slice) Strange ate little himself–though you could tell he was enjoying every moment of the children’s reactions.   He did, however, take an extra-large portion of ice cream from the make-your-own sundae bar which he had arranged for them in the kitchen. 

You had a modest sized sundae yourself, enjoying a treat you’d hadn’t tasted since you began your training at Kamar-Taj.  Cloak had withdrawn from you, to hover just past the industrial size refrigerator, once it was certain that you would partake of the meal. Strange set his empty bowl and spoon in the sink, and came to lean against the counter, right beside you. Your heart began to race to have him so near, and you told yourself  _don’t stare, **don’t stare**_ , even though you yearned to look directly into his beguiling eyes. 

“You know,” he told you, “I probably should have held off on the ice cream until after your trip to the park.  They’re um…well, they’re looking pretty sugared up right now.” 

You laughed softly, marveling how he spoke to you as an equal, despite his lofty status, and he rewarded you with a sheepish grin.  “I’m sure I can handle it, Doctor Strange. Give them an hour to run around, and play on the swings, and they’ll burn it off.”   

He nodded, as though he was deferring to  _your_  wisdom, so that you added, “They’ll be out of steam by the time we get back to Kamar-Taj, and most will probably be conked out in their dormitory before sunset.” 

“Still,” he maintained, leaning close enough for you to note the constellation of light freckles that graced the stunning contours of his face (making you wish for the leisure and the familiarity to number each one of them with the gentlest sort of kisses), “I can have one of my staff accompany you to the park—you know, to keep the kids from getting too out of hand.” 

You nodded and smiled, quietly disappointed that he couldn’t do that duty himself—but grateful for the offer, “I could probably use a hand with them. Thank you, Sir.”   He nodded back, and then he passed from your side, leaving you to sigh softly, fully heart-struck at his kind nature.

* * *

 

Doctor Strange had thoughtfully sent two of his Adepts (one of whom you had trained with in your early days at Kamar-Taj) to help you chaperone the children on their outing to Bleecker Street Park, making your task far easier than expected.  The afternoon passed pleasantly, and though you were fully attentive to your young charges, a small part of your mind—and heart, you realized ruefully—remained back at the Sanctum, imagining what it might be like to watch Stephen Strange move through his day.  Wishing you could watch him at his vital work, in matters both large and small. Longing to not only learn from him, but to somehow serve as a helpmate.  You promised yourself such dreaming would end when you crossed the threshold of 177A Bleecker once again. 

Still, you felt rather crestfallen as you prepared to conjure a portal back to the compound, disappointed that the Master of the New York Sanctum was nowhere in sight.  You would have liked to thank him for his hospitality and kindness to the children; you would have loved to stand beside him one last time, to feel his charisma wash over you, to hear that deep, rich, decadent as dark chocolate voice speak your name just once, so you might prize that memory in the days and weeks to come.              

Shepherding the youngsters through the orange-gold portal, where the Master of Novices awaited their return, you couldn’t help but turn back one last time, wistful and wishing for any reason to linger a bit more. Cloak zipped into view, made a beeline your way, and wrapped itself steadfastly around you.  

Strange followed in moments, huffing in irritation, and cursing under his breath as he came up beside you. “I’m sorry,” he growled, hands planted resolutely on his hips, “Cloak has quite a stubborn streak—and apparently thinks it’s rude of me not to see you off…”

You felt Cloak shiver, and loosen the embrace a bit, though it did not release you—apparently waiting for Stephen to continue. 

“Alright, I’m getting to it, can you just chill a minute?” he insisted, rolling his eyes.

You swore it felt like Cloak was laughing, and that made you feel like laughing too, the sight of the formidable Master—and object of your quiet, perpetual pining—endearingly out of sorts, as mortal as any ordinary man; warm and funny, and as Cloak drew you closer to him, kissably close. 

 The man before you, cleared his throat and took a calming breath. “Cloak likes you…a lot, I suppose…and thinks I should invite you back to visit…the Sanctum…”  Cloak aimed a quick jab of its hem at Strange, so that he added, “Us…visit  _us_ …another day.” 

Secretly thrilled, you wracked your brain for a reply sophisticated and cool enough to impress; what fell from your mouth fell far from your aim. “Uh…um…yes…yes…I…I…I’d like that. A lot…” 

“Okay then,” he nodded, watching sheepishly as Cloak disentangled from you, and floated away triumphantly.  “So…any time…if you’re in the mood…you’re welcome here.”  He smiled genuinely, and your heart fluttered softly, as you realized that  _that_ smile was actually for you. 

 _How lucky can a girl get_ , you thought, feeling the warmth of the portal at your back, while you hesitated a moment or two, wondering how bold you dared to be.  Before you could second guess yourself, you stepped in close– enough to feel his breath on your skin and wonder at the incredible depths of his amazing eyes—and laid the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever bestowed on anyone, upon his cheek. Backing away quickly, you grinned, memorizing his look of surprise mixed with appreciation, “I’d like that, Doctor Strange, I’d like that very much.”

For a moment he looked surprised, and then that crooked smile--which had lodged itself indelibly in your heart--broke upon his face.  The Master of the Mystic Arts chuckled, and raised a brow appraisingly, looking quite pleased with the little token of your regard.   To that, you held your head high, as you turned and entered the portal, delightfully conscious that his eyes lingered upon you as the ring closed--with you already plotting whatever excuse you would need to employ for a return trip back to his Sanctum.


End file.
